maybe i just wanna be yours
by blue252
Summary: "He's had enough. Enough of the subtle glances, the subtext laced conversations, the way she nudges him with her shoulder and their footsteps fall in line. It's a slow torture the way they almost touch, how he can feel the heat of her body whenever he holds up her jacket, allows her to slide into it, catching the scent of her hair as she lifts it over the collar." Season 3 oneshot.


_This started as a tumblr prompt from i-am-nikki-heat but it got a little longer than I intended and I haven't posted in forever so here goes. The prompt was "hug from behind." Set sometime late season 3._

* * *

**_maybe i just wanna be yours_**

He's had enough.

Enough of the subtle glances, the subtext laced conversations, the way she nudges him with her shoulder and their footsteps fall in line. It's a slow torture the way they almost touch, how he can feel the heat of her body whenever he holds up her jacket, allows her to slide into it, catching the scent of her hair as she lifts it over the collar.

He's tired of the excuses, the boyfriend she hides behind while she spends her days (and half of her nights) with him instead. He's tired of grasping at any and every little clue she gives him that may indicate she feels this too. This thing between them that haunts his dreams, permeates his brain whenever he's writing until he ends up having to backspace his way through scenes where he's mistakenly typed their names instead of Nikki and Rook.

It's as much his fault as hers. Her walls and his hesitance to breach them when it seems like this is the first real stretch of time he's managed not to screw things up. But sometimes he wonders if there's any way to avoid it. He's always felt like they were inevitable, on a collision course for either implosion or for always. They've already promised always. So what is he _really_ waiting for?

Maybe it's the whiskey burning in his chest. Maybe it's the fact that instead of coming straight from work to The Old Haunt, she went home and put on a black dress that's currently making it impossible for him to hold a conversation with the boys. Or maybe it's just that somewhere along the line he's fallen hopelessly in love with both the intelligent, kick ass detective Beckett and the softer, compassionate Kate.

Regardless of the reason, he suddenly cannot think of anything more important than making her see just exactly how good they could be if she'd only let him.

But he has to wait a while. The boys take their time, throwing back multiple drinks to drown out the last remnants of a case that took them the better part of a week to close. Lanie drags Beckett to the bar for shots and he watches the exposed line of her neck as she tilts her head, draining the tequila in one fluid motion. (And he wonders why he has trouble separating fact from fiction.) It's erotic as hell and sure enough, the boys follow his line of sight, wearing twin smirks as Ryan starts coughing to jolt him from the trance he's fallen into. Finally though, he gets his opportunity around midnight when everyone clears out and Beckett is attempting to pay the tab he's already taken care of.

He makes eye contact with the bartender, nods that it's ok for him to start closing up, all while she's still got her back turned to him, body pressed up against the bar. For once she's just intoxicated enough to be oblivious to his approach. So before he can talk himself out of his plan he just goes for it, all the while praying that she hasn't hidden a gun in some incomprehensible location.

"I already told you that the drinks are on me, detective." He whispers the words just along the shell of her ear, his body bracketing hers as he places his hands flat along the bar on either side of her.

"Castle, what the hell are you doing?"

To her credit, the words come out relatively steady. But he's also close enough to hear the underlying catch in her breath, to see the flush that spreads across her neck at his proximity. It spurs him on.

"Haven't you ever wondered, Beckett? Haven't you ever thought about what we could be? What it would feel like – " He pauses as he removes one of his hands from the bar, skims his fingertips down her arm. "– to finally give us a shot?"

He watches her swallow, prepares himself for the moment she's going to push him away, run home to her empty apartment and a message from Josh saying he's working late again. She surprises him instead.

"Yes."

"Yes?" The question pops out in a rush, not really intentional because in the middle of this suicide mission it's all he really wanted her to admit; and yet, nothing at all what he expected.

"Yes, Castle," she says quietly, turning her face to look him in the eye. "I've thought about it."

His hands move on their own volition, encircling her waist as he breathes in a mixture of her perfume and the remnants of tequila. He has to force himself not to press his mouth to her neck, to steal the taste from her lips. So he speaks instead. "Promise me something?"

He feels her sigh against him, hesitating for only a moment before she relaxes into his body, her head tucked against his shoulder. He has the brief thought that she can probably feel the way his pulse is nearly jumping under his skin but he can't seem to bring himself to care because she's actually letting him hold her and he's not entirely sure he was prepared for this reaction. Maybe it's possible that he's already passed out from the drinks and this is all some kind of dream. Her answer pulls him from his thoughts. "I don't know how good I am with promises these days but I'll try."

He laughs softly against her hair, gives himself another minute to revel in the way she feels in his arms. "Just promise me that you'll keep thinking about it, that someday, when or if you're ready, you'll give me a chance to prove how amazing we could be." He backs away reluctantly, turns her in his arms, needing to look her in the eyes. "Because Kate, if we do ever give this a shot, for me it's for keeps."

She's silent for a second (what feels like an infinity), holding his gaze before she steps in closer, wraps her arms around him, and lays her head against his chest. "I know, Castle," she whispers. "Me too."

* * *

_Thanks for reading and as always I'd love to hear your thoughts._


End file.
